Metal continued to sizzle and smoulder with a wounded red glow, hissing and smoking until at last most of the steel had melted away and Ruban had a clear view of the contents of the mysterious safe.

  Its job done, the energy-shell disappeared from around Ashwin’s fingers, a few wisps of smoke the only evidence that it had ever existed. That, and the gaping hole in the scorched steel vault before them.

  “Well, that was something,” the Hunter said at length, squinting into the vault as they waited for the metal to cool down.

  “Wasn’t it though?” the Aeriel grinned, like a cat pleased with its snack.

  “Well, it looks like your father wasn’t as uninteresting as you’d thought after all,” Ashwin quipped, sitting back on his haunches as he perused a file containing reports from the last case that Abhas had apparently worked as an officer of the IAW. “He looks to have had quite an interesting career before he drifted off to the countryside to become a potato farmer.”

  “He wasn’t a potato farmer,” Ruban said absently. He felt as if he was losing his mind, like his head was going to spin off his shoulders in a thousand different directions any moment now.

  None of this made any sense. If his father had worked for the IAW, how could he not have known that until now? Did he not know anything about his own family, his own father? Why would Baba have lied to him anyway? How could he? Luana’s words came crashing back to him: ‘He’d gotten a scholarship to that Hunter training school in the capital. Bracken, it’s called, isn’t it?’ and ‘Of course I was only a girl when he left for the capital to be a bigshot officer. He never did like being cooped up in a small town, that one.’

  How could he have been such a pathetic, oblivious idiot?

  His thoughts shifted to Uncle Subhas. If his father had worked for the IAW, Subhas had to have known about it. What possible reason could his entire family have had to lie to him about their past? His past?

  “It makes sense, I suppose,” Ashwin said quietly, drawing Ruban’s attention momentarily away from his own spiralling thoughts.

  “Nothing makes sense anymore,” Ruban declared. And if he was being just a tiny bit melodramatic, he thought he had earned the right.

  Ashwin ignored him. “He quit the IAW on the last day of June, exactly twenty-three years ago.”

  Ruban’s breath caught in his throat, and for a moment he feared he was going to choke on air. “Oh God.”

  20th June 1994, the day his mother had died after a year-long battle with lung cancer, leaving behind a grieving husband and a three-year-old son whose only remaining memory of her was that of wavy brown hair and the fragrance of wildflowers in spring.

  He wondered for a moment how Ashwin had known about it, the date of his mother’s death, but dismissed the thought almost as soon as it had occurred. Obviously, the Aeriel would have researched his past before joining him in the investigation. After all, had he not done the same to the redoubtable ‘Ashwin Kwan’?

  “He left because she died,” he whispered, the words barely audible even to himself. “That’s why he never talked about it. Because it reminded him…of her. Of what he’d lost.”

  The remaining folder contained documents relating to the investigation into Abhas’s death, into the attack on their home in Surai. Reports filed by Hunters and policemen, eyewitness accounts and crime-scene analyses – things Ruban had seen a thousand different times on a thousand different cases. Things he worked with on a regular basis.

  And yet, seeing this impersonal evaluation of the destruction of his own life twisted something deep in his gut, like tearing open an old wound. He wanted to run away, to never have to see any of it again. But his legs refused to move, his eyes refused to be torn away from the papers lying scattered before him, the only remnants of a life that was now nothing more than a distant dream.

  “It was never completed,” Ashwin said abruptly, snapping Ruban out of his own head.

  “What?”

  “The investigation into your father’s death. Ruban, it was scrapped before it could reach a conclusion. Scrapped by order of the Director of the IAW,” the Aeriel said, pressing a finger to a paragraph in one of the papers lying around them.

  His blood thundering in his veins, Ruban demanded: “Who recommended the scrapping?” even as his hand flew out to grab the piece of paper for himself.

  There was a moment’s silence as Ashwin’s eyes roved over some of the other withered, yellowing documents in his hands. Then, he whispered in a voice that Ruban barely recognised – “Subhas Kinoh”.

  Ruban’s hands shook as he held the letter between his fingers. The envelope was old, fraying at the edges. Exactly eight years old. He was terrified that it would crumble if he touched it too roughly, and then he would be a fatherless orphan once again. All alone, forever and ever. Gods, I’m losing my mind.

  “Open it,” Ashwin said, his voice uncharacteristically solemn. His fingers brushed lightly over Ruban’s trembling forearms. “Do you want me to do it?” There was an odd sort of compassion in his tone – like the empathy of a rock for a lame bird – uncomprehending, but sincere.

  They had found the letter among the documents relating to the Surai investigation – the investigation his uncle had scrapped before it could even reach a conclusion. The investigation into the destruction of Ruban’s life, the annihilation of his family, of his dearest friend. Of the future he had once had, which had turned to ash along with the walls of his old home.

  The envelope was addressed to Subhas at his residence in Ragah. The address of their home in Surai was printed in his father’s sparse, elegant script in the box where the sender’s information was supposed to be. The faded delivery stamp on the envelope marked the date of delivery of the letter as the third of March, exactly a week before Reivaa’s attack on their home. Exactly a week before his father’s death, Miki’s death.

  Ruban felt as though he was going to throw up, even as his vision blurred with unshed tears. He was in a nightmare he couldn’t escape, and his muscles refused to move when he told them to. He sat there on the floor of the dank storeroom, barely breathing, like a forgotten statue abandoned halfway by its maker.

  Ashwin pried the envelope gently from his unresisting fingers, flicking the unsealed flap open to extricate the letter within it. Unfolding the withered old document, he swept his eyes over it in a few seconds that seemed to stretch like hours to Ruban. The sight of his father’s handwriting covering the paper made his throat clench as a single tear rolled down his face and into the collar of his shirt.

  Gods, he was crying. Crying in front of a goddamned Aeriel. A goddamned Aeriel who pitied him, if the gutted look on Ashwin’s face was anything to go by.

  “What is it?” he snapped, unable to bear that look any longer.

  “He knew,” Ashwin murmured, looking away like he couldn’t bring himself to meet Ruban’s eyes. “Your father knew that Tauheen was planning to steal the reinforced sifblade formula, although it hadn’t yet been fully perfected at the time. One of his old IAW sources had alerted him about the possibility of a theft, of an Aeriel attack on SifCo. He wrote to Subhas to warn him about it.”

  “A week before he was killed,” Ruban said, his voice devoid of all emotion. “Exactly a week before he was killed.”

  “Do you want to take a break?” Ashwin asked him, eyeing Ruban with something akin to concern. “I can look through the rest on my own and get everything in order. We should be leaving soon anyway. Wouldn’t be safe to spend the night in this house. You can go get some air while I finish up here.”

  He was holding a small, padlocked metal box in his hands. It was the only thing in the safe they had not yet gone through. The files and papers sat in two neat piles on one side of the vault, arranged by Ashwin according to their subject matter – one for his father’s old employment records with the IAW and the other for the unfinished Surai investigation.

  Ruban looked at the case in the Aeriel’s hand for a long minute. To his own surprise and consternation, he felt no particular curiosity about the contents of the box. He was too numb to feel curious. He was too numb to feel anything. And a part of him wanted to keep it that way.

  But another part of him could not forget who he was, what he was. He was Ruban Kinoh, Chief Hunter, South Ragah Division. He was a soldier, an officer of the state of Vandram, a servant to her people. There were interests greater than his own at stake here, and he had a duty to see them through. Much as he wanted to turn back the clock, he was no longer the hapless kid who had run away from the ruins of his life in Surai eight years ago. And he had no right to act like that lost boy, not anymore.

  “No, I’ll stay,” he said at last, focusing on his companion’s face. Ashwin looked worried. Justifiably so, Ruban supposed. He was acting like a pathetic moron, falling apart on a mission. Ridiculous. “I want to see what’s in the damn box.”

  Ashwin’s lips quirked in a faint little smile. “Okay then.” Taking the padlock between his fingers, he gave it a casual little yank, and the lock fell away like so much disintegrated jelly. “Ready?”

  “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

  With an imperceptible nod, Ashwin flicked the case open.

  Then he gasped, fell back away from the box and whimpered like a wounded animal.

  The case clattered noisily to the floor, spilling its contents all over the dirty marble panels of the storeroom.

  Ruban blinked, moving forward to get a better look at the little rocks that were now scattered around the safe, while simultaneously shielding the Aeriel with his body. Reaching forward, he picked one up, holding it carefully in the palm of his hand.

  And then it hit him.

  Sif ores. He was holding a bit of sif ore in his hand.

  But not just any sif ore. This was darker, harder than the normal stuff, which was why he hadn’t recognised it immediately. And from Ashwin's reaction, there could be no doubt about it. A little bit of untreated sif shouldn’t cause more than some vague discomfort in an Aeriel, if that. But this was different, of course.

  This was the enhanced sif ore that his uncle had spoken of, that Dr. Visht had spoken of. The raw material for the creation of reinforced sifblades.

  Heavens! Someone was stocking state-of-the-art sif technology in a vault in this secluded villa in Ibanborah. There was only one way that could be possible. After all, it wasn’t as though the government was selling untreated supercharged sif ores to the highest bidder for private ownership.

  This was stolen property. Stolen state property.

  And who would have the necessary influence and access to steal something as sensitive and valuable as chemically enhanced sif ores?

  The pieces were falling into place in Ruban’s head, but they were forming a picture he did not want to see.

  “By Zeifaa, put those vile things away,” a strangled voice croaked behind him as Ashwin pushed himself laboriously back to his knees. “My limbs feel like they have lead weights tied to them.”

  “Sorry,” muttered Ruban, sheepish, and hastily collected the scattered rocks, packing them back into the metal case and flipping it firmly shut. “Better?”

  “Much,” Ashwin said, releasing a rattling breath. Then, as if remembering something, he patted the floor beside the spot where the box had originally fallen. “Voila!” he said, holding up what looked like a small disk wrapped in cardboard. “This fell out of the case with that other godforsaken stuff. I was just too taken aback to pay attention to it then.”

  Hesitantly, Ruban reached out to take the proffered object from the Aeriel. Slipping a finger inside the cardboard case, he pulled out the disk ensconced within.

  “Damn it all to hell,” he said, voice shaking with some emotion he couldn’t name. “This is the formula. The goddamned sifblade formula Tauheen stole from SifCo.”

  “Oh fuck,” the Aeriel said, appropriately.

  They were back in the balcony, the fragrance of flowers in full bloom permeating their senses as they looked out over the river shrouded in darkness, the water only visible where it reflected the light of the stars above. Everything they had found in the safe, including the case of sif ores, was wrapped safely in a bedsheet Ashwin had retrieved from the wardrobe and slung over Ruban’s shoulder.

  Ruban knew they should leave, but when the Aeriel offered to fly them out, he held up a hand, stalling. A part of him wanted to run away and forget everything that had happened in this place, but another part of him did not want to leave – because he knew that once he left this house, his life would never be the same again. And Ruban didn’t think he was ready for what was to come next. He didn’t think he would ever be ready for it.

  “You realise she must have turned him,” Ashwin said at last, not looking at the Hunter. His head was tilted upwards, eyes gazing out over the pinpricks of light dotting the vast, endless blackness that was the universe. “It’s the only way to explain any of this. The papers, the sif. The bloody stolen disk we’ve been looking for all this time,” he sighed, turning to face his companion. “Subhas was – is – her inside man in the IAW. Tauheen must have turned him, and from what we’ve found here tonight, she did it years ago.”

  Ruban said nothing. He did not know what to say. The truth was staring him straight in the face and all he wanted to do was look away. When had he become such a coward?

  Perhaps the day he lost his father, his best friend. He thought he had lost everything there was to lose; but he really hadn’t, had he? The thought of losing the only family he had left…it left him feeling cold in a way that the thought of facing death on a Hunt never had.

  Baba always said there were different types of courage. This was one type in which Ruban felt himself singularly wanting.

  Of course, the Aeriel had no such qualms about dissing his own family. “I mean, I can’t say I’m entirely surprised. Not about your uncle, obviously. I never seriously suspected him of being the leak. But then again, my mother can be very persuasive. Which is a nice way of saying that she’s a lying, manipulative psychopath who wouldn’t know a conscience if it was sitting on her shoulder clawing at her frozen heart.”

  Despite himself, despite the impossible situation they were in, Ruban chuckled. He couldn’t say that the image of something clawing at the Aeriel Queen’s heart seemed entirely unappealing at the moment. Hell, he would have given anything for the opportunity to do just that himself – tear her beating heart from her chest and stomp on it.

  He ran a hand tiredly over his face. He felt defeated, wrung out. “I don’t understand. Just…why? Why would he do this? Betray everyone, everything. His country, his family…the goddamn human race! What could possibly have been enough of a price for that?”

  Ashwin shrugged. “I never understood what was enough of a price for any of them, really. But she’s always been like that. She always had…an uncanny sort of sway over mortals. Even when I was a child I saw it. Not that she couldn’t manipulate Aeriels, because she could. And did. But she was never as effective as she was with a human, or even a vankrai. Somehow, they always seemed to be completely in thrall to her, to everything she said and everything she did. Once she had them, that was it. They could see no wrong in her. Safaa says she manipulates human emotions, uses it against you. I suppose she would know.

  “It’s easier to see why Tauheen needed him, of course. Even if she had the formula, she couldn’t have decrypted it on her own. She’d need an insider for that. An insider high enough in the hierarchy to have access to classified information of the most sensitive nature. Subhas could have helped her decrypt the formula and gotten her the sif ores without much trouble. That’s obvious enough.” He turned to look sharply at the Hunter, pushing himself off the wall he had been leaning against. “What I don’t get, though, is why my mother would have felt the need to kidnap Hiya if she already had Subhas doing her bidding of his own free will.”

  Before Ruban could answer, they heard the whirr of an engine in the distance and the street leading up to the villa was momentarily illuminated by the headlights of an approaching car. As it reached the eucalyptus grove, the vehicle turned a corner into the lane leading up to the front gates, disappearing from Ruban’s line of sight.

  “Well,” he said, looking up at Ashwin with a humourless smile. “I guess we’ll get those answers whether we want them or not.”

  Chapter 13: Tauheen

  The master bedroom with its attached balcony, as well as the storeroom, was on the second floor of the villa. As the car turned into the grove, Ruban swept out of the room and into the hallway. If his uncle was here, Ruban would meet him. He wanted some answers, and he wanted them now. He was not going to run away like some thief, not when he was the one who had been betrayed.

  A few paces down, the latticed wall on one side of the hallway rounded into a wide staircase leading down to the ground floor. The front door clicked – the sound of a key turning in a lock – just as Ruban reached the top of the staircase. Raised voices could be heard from the other side of the door. Someone was having an argument.

  Ashwin’s hand shot out to wrap around Ruban’s bicep in a vicelike grip that belied his slender appearance. His wrists looked like they would snap at the slightest pressure, but he pulled the struggling man away from the stairs and pressed him against the latticed wall with the ease of someone manhandling a small child.

  And then the front door burst open, throwing a man and a woman into the entrance hall.

  Squinting through the latticework, Ruban recognised his uncle, his hair askew and hands balled into white-knuckled fists. He was breathing heavily, a thunderous expression on his face. With him was a young woman in a short green dress, unusually fair for these parts, her lustrous brown hair done up in an intricate coiffure atop her head, held in place by a pair of sunglasses. Her face was turned away from Ruban, but then he wasn’t looking at her anyway. All his attention was focused on Subhas.

 

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